


Six Hours

by toyhto



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Goodbyes, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It took her two more hours and a lot of wine to make herself finally walk to Jon. It was far past midnight and the bar had pretty much emptied, and she had already begun wondering why Jon was still there. He would have to sleep, the train would be leaving in the morning.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Hours

She saw him through the room full of people who had something to tell him, and she wondered what the hell it was, and how it was even possible that they managed to find anything to say. She had tried for weeks, but it seemed that her words had got lost after Robb had left four months ago. Back then they had all stood by the train and hugged him and wished him well, although surely they had already known how empty their words were. And now she couldn’t make herself repeat those words anymore.

 _Good luck_ , she thought she saw someone saying to him, _you’ll be back soon_ , just like they had told Robb. She drew a deep breath and took another sip of her glass.

He was leaning against the bar counter, and she wasn’t able to tell if it was the dim light or if his forehead really was in a deep frown. He was holding a beer in one hand and with another he shook hands with friends who wanted to spend this last evening with him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had rather been at home, perhaps playing a card game with Arya and Bran and pretending tomorrow was just like any other day. He didn’t look like he had been afraid but surely he had to be. She was.

Jon, she thought with a long sigh as he smiled shortly to a friend of Robb’s, a young man who also wore a uniform, _don’t go. Please don’t go. It’s such a long way from home. Let them fight their own wars._

 _It’s my duty,_ Jon had told them with solemn face one evening in the dinner table. It hadn’t been a surprise. With Robb gone to Europe already, Sansa felt like they all had been just holding their breath, waiting for Jon to announce he was going too.

She had spent days trying to build courage, and now she was running out of time and still she felt her insides freezing when she barely thought of walking to Jon, giving him a brief hug and saying _goodbye, good luck._ As if it had been all there was to say. She went for another glass of wine and shook her head when Margaery asked her if she was okay, and then she realized her mistake and gave her a short, unhappy laugh.

“You’ll have to face him eventually,” Margaery said with a low voice she could barely hear over the music and talking. “It will be easier tonight than tomorrow by the train when your whole family is seeing him off.”

“Sure,” she said, eyeing Jon as he turned his back to her, talking to a girl who had been their neighbor years ago. “I can’t do it, though.”

“You can.” Margaery’s voice was firm. “And you will. Otherwise you’ll sulk for the next year or however long it’s going to take for this war to end.”

“Dad fought in the last one,” Sansa said under her breath, “he said they thought it to be the last one.”

“Well, this one is going to end one day too and then they’re all coming home.” Margaery smiled, but the smile on her lips was tense and Sansa had to look away. Jon was now drinking his beer alone, leaning heavily against the wall. _They will come home_ , they said, _our boys will come home one day._ That was what dad said, and mum, but none of them knew. It was just a wish repeated constantly so that it might become true.

It took her two more hours and a lot of wine to make herself finally walk to Jon. It was far past midnight and the bar had pretty much emptied, and she had already begun wondering why Jon was still there. He would have to sleep, the train would be leaving in the morning and then… but she couldn’t bear to think about it, though there was nothing else she had been able to think for a long time.

“Hi there,” she said, swallowing. Jon raised his gaze from the glass of beer he was holding. He looked terribly tired and still he smiled when he saw her, and she drew a breath. “So – “

“So,” Jon sighed, his smile fading away, “you’ve come to say goodbye too.”

“No,” she said and then frowned, “or yes, but… _shit_. Don’t go, Jon. Just don’t.”

He looked shaken, eyeing him carefully, his lips turning into an unsatisfied grimace. “Sansa, I have to, I really do, it’s – “

“Yeah, yeah.” She exhaled deeply, turning her gaze away from him. Margaery was drinking her glass of wine in a table where she had left her, and she couldn’t help but remember the day Robb had left and how Margaery had tried to hide wiping her cheeks with her gloved hands. “You have to. I know. I’ve heard. But… but, _Jon_ …”

He watched her and she couldn’t end her sentence. There was no way, not even if she had known how to put a tight knot in her stomach to words. She sighed in frustration and turned away, and almost dropped her glass as Jon grabbed her wrist.

“Sansa,” he said and it sounded like a warning, “if there’s anything you’d like to tell me, you better do it now, ‘cause after tomorrow…”

“After tomorrow,” she inhaled, shit, _shit_ , Margaery was smiling sadly to her from the other side of the small bar and there had to be too much smoke on the air because it was suddenly terribly hard to breathe. After tomorrow Jon would be gone. After tomorrow she might never see him again. He would be in God knows where fighting the war that seemed like someone else’s business and still it managed to take everything she hold dear.

“Would you kiss me?” she asked and then bit her lip as Jon straightened his back, clearly startled.

“What?” He sounded confused and dubious but not angry, and thank God he didn’t give her a quick peek on her cheek, thank God he seemed to somehow realize what she was asking for.

“Yes,” she said slowly, her words mumbled because of the wine or perhaps because of her nerves, and Jon just watched her and she felt her heart drumming in her chest, “yes, please, Jon, if you wish, if you... I know we’re cousins and I know you and Robb are like brothers and you’re family and it’s all weird and you’re leaving tomorrow and you might never come back, but if you… if you wish…”

She didn’t really know what she was going to say, perhaps _please, please_ all over again and eventually Jon would tell her to shut up, but he didn’t, he kissed her in the mouth.

It was a tentative kiss but her mind was going blank anyway, and when Jon drew back and placed a long kiss on her forehead, she pulled him back. There was something, there had to be something in the way he had kissed her, and she hold his face in her hands and felt his palms grab her hips gently, and when she rose onto her toes and kissed him he moaned against her lips.

 _Thank God_ , she thought, _thank God I have this one night._

“Sansa,” he breathed out against her mouth, “what is this, what the hell, I never thought – “

“Me neither,” she mumbled, pulling him closer for another kiss, “I didn’t realize until you told us you were leaving, and then I thought it was too late but I just couldn’t let you leave without… without knowing that I…”

“Oh my God.” Jon was kissing the corner of her mouth, her upper lip, her lower lip, her jaw and her cheeks, all so gently and carefully, and one of his hands had cupped her face and another was on her back, keeping her tightly against his chest. “Robb would kill me, he would, he would kill me if he knew I was kissing you – “

“I don’t care,” Sansa said, and her heart ached as she thought about Robb but there just wasn’t _time_ , this was her one night with Jon and she wouldn’t let anything come between them, “I really don’t, Jon, we have this one single night – “

She paused as Jon drew back to look at her. His face was solemn and his eyes were dark and sad and terrified and she had to swallow and then again. “One single night,” he repeated blankly.

“Yes. _Yes_. Anything.”

“I couldn’t – “ Jon started and then paused, frowning, “I _wouldn’t,_ Sansa, I can’t just... You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying, I’m afraid I’ve had one beer too much, you must forgive me – “

“Let’s go home,” she said, grabbing his hand, “right now, it’s like… like we have _six hours_ left.”

 _Six hours_ , she kept mouthing without a sound when they sat in the taxi through the quiet roads of a sleeping small town. Jon hold her hand until the car stopped in front of Stark family house, and she had to pull him out of the backseat and then he had to open the front door, because she couldn’t hold the key with her hands shaking like that. They passed the room where Jon had lived for years after his mother had died, and they passed Robb’s room no one dared to go to these days, and Sansa thought she saw a light wavering under the door of her parents’ bedroom but she couldn’t be sure. Maybe they were all counting hours.

“You don’t mean this,” Jon said when she closed the door of her own room and kissed him.

“Do you?” she heard herself asking, then stepped back, holding him by his shoulders and trying to read the deep frown on his face. “What do you want? I dragged you here, perhaps you’d rather stayed – “

“No,” he interrupted her firmly, “no, of course not. _Sansa_. I’m… I don’t know what I am. I’m terrified, of tomorrow, of everything, of… you. I’ve tried not to look at you because then I always think of Robb and how he’d punch me if he ever came back home. And I really see him as my brother, but you, you’re different, you always were, and now you’re… and I’m leaving, and… and I’m drunk and I’m a wreck but if I could be anywhere tonight I’d be with you.”

“Then be with me.”

“Sansa,” he said, and she realized her hands were shaking again, but it was because of the way he said her name, and she took a step towards him but he backed away, “I can’t. _We can’t_. You could get pregnant and I could get killed.”

“There are other ways to do such a thing, so that you won’t get me pregnant,” she said, and then suddenly hoped that the dim light of the room hid her blushing, “or so I’ve been told.”

“You’ve been told,” he said slowly, but there was a warm slow smile on his face now and she felt her knees go a bit wobbly. “You wouldn’t know, would you?”

“No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t think any less of you, you know,” he said, finally taking a step towards her, and she exhaled deeply and then thought, _six hours, oh my God_. “But still I can’t believe that you’d like me to… to…”

“I don’t want to argue,” she said, snapping him off, “for fuck’s sake, Jon, we have six hours left and it might be all we ever have. I want you to kiss me, I want you to hold me and caress me and do whatever you wish to, I want to know everything there’s to know about you until I let you go.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, “yes,” and then he kissed her again.

It came quite clear she had known nothing, despite the whispered stories Margaery had told her. She hadn’t realized how hastily she’d have to catch breath in between their kisses, or how heavy Jon would be lying on her, holding himself on the elbows and still being heavy like the whole world were holding her down. She hadn’t thought she would lose the sense of time and stop counting hours and she would forget about herself and in the same time not. She hadn’t thought she’d want to kiss him everywhere she could reach and that he would watch her like she was the best thing in the world even though she didn’t know what to do, what to say. She hadn’t known how careful and intent and still sometimes clumsy his hands would be nor had she known they’d both be sweating even though the window was open and the winter was coming.

She hadn’t known she’d fall asleep tangled up with Jon Snow in every way possible, and that she’d wake up to find him quietly putting on the uniform and it would break her heart.

**

 _Dearest Sansa_ , he wrote and her hands trembled as she hold the letter, _I know it’s been a long time since you heard from me, but now I’m in London, and I’m alive. I took a bullet onto my shoulder back in November 1942. I thought I was a dead man then and couldn’t make myself write to say goodbye, and then it healed and I thought I didn’t need to. But right after I was taken a prisoner and hold somewhere near Cologne until our troops took the city in this March. I got to London but was afraid that they’d put me back to the battlefront and didn’t dare to write, but now it’s over and I’m writing to you, dear, dear Sansa, I’m so sorry. I’m not the same man I used to be, sometimes I think I’m not a man at all. I should never have left. It was all madness and it haunts me that human beings could do things like that to each other, and I’m no better than anyone else. But I’m alive. And I know it’s been more than three years, I won’t hold you back, I’ll be happy just to know you’re alright and then I’ll go if you want me to. But I’ll say this: it’s been more than three years but I never stopped thinking about you. Sansa, my love, I’m coming home. I’m a broken man now but I’m yours if you want me._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kind of supposed to be working on an original short story at the moment, and still I find myself awake middle of the night, writing a Jonsa WWII AU. Oh yes.


End file.
